Magic's Touch
by Vorima Calina
Summary: There is evidence that Kirkwall was built by the Tevinter Magisters to thin the veil. An old enemy plans to use the thinned veil and a sacrifice to bring great evil to Thedas. Can Hawke stop it before he loses everything? MHawkeXFenris HIATUS!
1. Chapter 1

**Hawke**

Garrett Hawke sat at his writing table, staring into space and idly twirling his quill. The fire in the ornate fireplace had begun to die down as midnight approached and the room was beginning to feel a bit chill. Autumn was approaching. While the days were still quite hot, the evenings had begun to get cool and the wind whistled through Hightown carrying with it a hint of seasons changing. Hawke sighed and set his quill down as he leaned back in his chair, pondering the changes his life had undergone in the several seasons since he and his family had fled Lothering.

So much had changed. First they had lost Bethany, which had been a huge blow to the whole family. Hawke remembered their lessons together with Father, playing together in the fields near their home, teaching Bethany and Carver how to hunt small game. Then as they had gotten older, Hawke had practiced sparring with Carver and spellcasting with Bethany. The image of the sweet little girl who had grown into a beautiful young lady was a bittersweet one that Hawke would always carry with him. Mother was never the same after Bethany died, and then after Carver impetuously left to join the Templars she had become a mere shell of the vibrant and loving woman she had once been.

It had been hard to watch his family fall apart at the seams, then once it was just him and his mother, Hawke had really begun to see the effects of everything on her. Then, tragedy. He would never forget watching his mother die as he held her mutilated body in his arms, or how she told him just how proud she was of him and how much she loved him. Hawke's throat tightened at the memory. It had been a couple of years, but he knew the emotional wound of losing his mother may never heal. He blamed himself entirely, as did Carver, which only served to drive the wedge between them even deeper.

Of course he loved his younger brother, but it did not seem to matter what he did, Carver always resented him and pushed him away. Hawke hoped that being in the Templars would give Carver something else to focus on; an opportunity to grow, even if that meant that they could likely never have a close relationship because Hawke was an apostate. All he had left now of his life back in Lothering, was his mabari, Fang, who was currently curled up in front of the fireplace.

Now, on top of everything else that had happened, Hawke, in order to protect Isabela and Kirkwall, had killed the Qunari Arishok. The people of Kirkwall were lauding him as the "Champion of Kirkwall", a title that only seemed to add to Hawke's troubles. The attacks on him and his companions while trying to complete errands or help people had increased steadily. It seemed that his reputation preceded him everywhere. Hawke did not feel like a champion. Mostly, he just felt profoundly alone. With his whole family, excluding Carver, dead; and with Fenris…

Hawke stood up and stretched, trying to derail his train of thought. Thinking of Fenris was too painful. After their one night of frantic and needy love-making, shortly before Leandra's murder, Fenris had pushed him away, shut him out. Years of admiring, flirting, talking, reading, and fighting together had culminated in what Hawke had hoped would be the next step of their relationship, but he had been wrong. He wondered if Fenris had ever felt anything at all…maybe what happened had been because of the stress Fenris had felt leading up to and after killing Hadriana. Hawke tried to understand Fenris's reasons, but the echo of Fenris's words from that day often came back to haunt him.

"What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?" the elf had spat in Hawke's face after killing Hadriana and discovering that he had a sister who was in service to a magister.

Hawke's expression had remained calm, but the comment ran deep. It reminded Hawke that Fenris likely despised everything that he was, which only made it all the more confusing that they had been together in the first place. Now they politely avoided one another. Fenris was still willing to help Hawke hunt down slaving rings or clear out bandits, but beyond lending Hawke his sword, Fenris remained mostly silent and when he did speak it was to their companions, not Hawke directly. It was painful, but Hawke was trying to move on. He had even considered going through with the political marriage his mother had wanted for him.

Heaving another large sigh, Hawke left his room, intending to get some wine so that he could get his mind off of everything and perhaps drink until he felt things less acutely. As he came down the stairs, however, Hawke was distracted by a commotion in the foyer.

"Messere, please!" Hawke heard Bodahn's voice issuing from the foyer. "Tell me what you need and I will fetch Master Hawke right away!"

"I have no time for this, dwarf!" the curt reply was rough, gravelly, and quite deep. Hawke would know that voice anywhere.

Hawke stood frozen on the bottom step, his heart racing. He wondered why the appearance of the elf had such an effect on him now, when they had been fighting side by side for quite some time since Fenris had left him. Perhaps it was because this was the first time Hawke was seeing Fenris in private since then…

Fenris stormed into the main hall, and as their eyes met they were both momentarily at a loss for words. Hawke noticed that Fenris looked tired, haggard, and a little thin. Yet the elf maintained a lithe and lean muscular figure. His silver hair and markings contrasted with his tan skin, and his dark green eyes were as mysterious as ever. Hawke recovered himself first.

"It's alright, Bodahn. I was awake anyway. I'll take it from here," he nodded to Bodahn, signaling that the dwarf should go get some rest then he turned to look at Fenris again. "If you'll follow me…"

Fenris nodded and followed as Hawke led him into his study. He walked to the fireplace then turned to face the elf.

"Clearly this is an urgent matter. How can I help?"

Fenris cleared his throat, but now did not seem able to meet Hawke's gaze.

"I found her, Hawke. Varania. My sister. I've arranged to meet with her at the Hanged Man tomorrow afternoon…"

"But you think it might be a trap," Hawke guessed.

"Yes. I think…Danarius may use her to get to me. I….I need your help, Hawke."

They stood in silence for a moment as Hawke considered the situation. He had already begun planning.

"Of course I'll help, Fenris," Hawke said placing a reassuring hand on Fenris's shoulder. The second he touched the elf, however, he felt the faint tingle of lyrium and quickly withdrew his hand. Fenris had an odd expression on his face and took a step backward. The whole atmosphere in the study had changed and Hawke swallowed hard against the light-headed feeling that was coming over him.

"You should…go…get some rest," Hawke said, turning to stare into the fire, hoping that it would be easier to breathe if he was not looking at the slender elf. He could still feel the faintly lingering tingle of lyrium on his hand. It triggered memories of Fenris's lyrium markings on his body, their skin pressed together…

"You have my gratitude," Fenris said quietly, then turned and left.

Hawk sighed in relief as the tension he had felt left the room with Fenris. Then he sat down at the desk to draw up a floor plan of the Hanged Man, and figure out the best plan of attack in case the meeting did turn into an ambush. Hawke almost hoped that it would. It could be their chance to finally free Fenris from his past, and help him start building a future…whether it included Hawke or not.

**A/N: Please review. Let me know if I should keep going or not.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fenris**

Fenris _did_ go back to his dilapidated mansion in Hightown, but he did not get any rest. He was plagued all night by nightmares. Some of them were the brief glimpses of memory that he had experience that night with Hawke, but most of the nightmares were of Danarius. The man was a monster, brutal and cruel.

* * *

><p>Fenris could feel the steel cuffs biting into his wrists as he sat against the cold stone wall. He shivered, the cold easily passed through his plain cotton shirt and breeches. He wondered how long he had been here. Danarius would sometimes lock him up with little or no explanation of his wrong-doing. Perhaps he had spoken out of turn, or to the wrong person. Maybe he had not kept his head low enough and his eyes averted as he should. Fenris raked over his memories again and again, hoping to discover why he had been locked up, but nothing came to mind.<p>

He wanted desperately to hate Danarius, but at the same time he wanted to please the man. He wanted recognition of a good job, or the reward of a little extra food. He was so hungry. When he heard someone approaching from down the hall, Fenris immediately lowered his head, not wanting to look at the person (in case he was not supposed to). At first it had disturbed Fenris that he could not remember who he was, but soon he had settled into a routine of simply trying to please his master so that he might eat and not be beaten. His first awareness had been about a month ago. The markings that were burned into his flesh continued to chafe painfully against most everything, but the worst thing was that they constantly ached. The pain had dulled a little, but was ever present in his mind.

Now he was being escorted through a richly decorated mansion, and he wondered where he was going. He was shown into a very richly decorated bedchamber, with high ceilings and lush tapestries. Danarius was standing near a large bed in the center of the room.

"Good Evening, my little wolf," his voice was cold, but fiercely possessive. "Sit down, have something to eat."

Sure enough, there was a large plate of food sitting at a small table in the corner. The cuffs around Fenris's wrists were connected by a length of chain, so he could clumsily feed himself. He did not even bother to sit down as he grabbed a large slice of bread and began wolfing the food down. Fenris did not even notice Danarius come up behind him, until he felt a cold finger rake down one of the markings on the side of his neck. He flinched away from the touch. It stung and made every marking in his body tingle painfully.

"Turn around," the cold voice ordered.

Fenris dropped the food that he had been holding and turned around to face the magister, though he kept his eyes on the floor.

"I'm so pleased with how our _experiment_ turned out," the magister mused, this time tracing one of Fenris's markings down his neck to the neckline of his shirt.

Fenris jumped as Danarius touched his shirt and it disintegrated. He bit his lower lip, trying to slow his heart rate. He was definitely afraid of this man. Fenris bit down harder, stifling a pained groan as the mage traced the marking down his chest and abdomen.

"It is good that I performed the ritual well before your twentieth year, otherwise the lyrium might not have grafted to the skin quite as…beautifully…"

There was something in the magister's voice that made Fenris's insides squirm.

"Take off your trousers, Fenris," Danarius called, stepping back as though he were admiring a work of art.

Fenris's hands worked of their own volition and soon he was standing naked in the ornate room. Danarius motioned for Fenris to come and the young elf instinctively obeyed, but his sense of dread was growing. The mage regarded him for was seemed like an eternity, then the old man reached out and took Fenris's manhood in hand.

"No…" Fenris growled, his teeth grinding against the pain of the lyrium markings.

"No?"

Danarius's voice was mild, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. He stepped behind the elf and Fenris only saw a faint red glimmer before Danarius touched him on the back of his neck. This time, however, there had been a spell along with the touch. Fenris's knees gave out as searing pain shot through every inch of his body. His hands and knees scraped on the stone floor and began to bleed. No matter how he tried, Fenris could not make his body obey him. He was stuck, frozen in place; first by agony, and then by whatever spell Danarius had used on him.

"You will submit to my _every_ whim, my little wolf," Danarius purred from somewhere behind him. "Now…don't struggle. This doesn't have to be _entirely_ painful."

* * *

><p>Fenris gasped and shot up in bed. He looked around frantically then he sighed in relief when he was sure that he had been dreaming. The elf shuddered. Here he was over a decade and a thousand miles away from what had happened that night and many subsequent nights, but he could still feel the magister's touch. It sickened him. He knew that Danarius would be coming for him soon. If not at the meeting with his sister tomorrow, then some other place and time, but it would be soon.<p>

Fenris was not sure if he was ready to face Danarius, but then he thought of Hawke. He had been wary of the mage at first, but Hawke had proven himself time and again. Fenris felt his chest tighten as he remembered all of the times that Hawke had helped him, and then how they had…He ran his hands briskly through his hair, trying to wipe the memory from his mind.

He had been so confused. Fenris only remembered being touched by Danarius before that night, and that had been painful and demeaning. But with Hawke…Fenris flushed at the memory. With Hawke it had been completely different. It was fast, frantic, and…passionate. Fenris had hardly noticed the discomfort in his markings. But he did not understand why his memories from before the ritual had come back. Nothing made sense. He was afraid. That was basically the sum of it, Fenris had been afraid, was still afraid, and that was why he distanced himself from Hawke.

Fear seemed like such a clichéd excuse. But Fenris did not know what to do, and he still struggled with trusting mages…even one who had saved his life. Perhaps he was especially mistrustful because of what had been done to him, and because of the horrible things he had seen done by mages in the last few years around Kirkwall.

Fenris lay back down in bed and tried to think positively. Tomorrow he would get to meet his sister, and if all went well she might tell him about his life before the ritual. The elf fell back into a fitful sleep, filled with evil mages and a deep feeling of despair.


End file.
